Read Online Blind Redemption by Violetta Rand - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Violetta Rand
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already revealed her unchaste behavior to her father. If he ever found out, he’d arrange an immediate marriage to Marteinn. Poor Marteinn—he’d nearly begged her to wait for him. He’d never forgive her for not agreeing.
After Erik left camp, Aaron was forced to contend with the bitter memories the elder had resurrected. Aaron’s cousin, Jarl Tyr Sigurdsson, should have executed Aaron for his betrayal. Hatred, jealousy, and thinly-veiled lust for Tyr’s wife had fueled his rage against his cousin. He desired everything Tyr had. Adding insult to injury, Aaron had bedded his cousin’s former mistress without permission.
Aaron covered his face with both hands. Without the love and support of family, Aaron finally had to admit, he felt lost—unbearably lonely.
New recruits were showing up daily. Word spread quickly about the draft. Farmers and noblemen alike volunteered their sons and experienced warriors before Aaron visited their homes. Better to keep the king’s representative pacified before he knocked on your gate. Perhaps they feared what he’d discover if he visited their steadings—hidden assets—secret altars dedicated to the old gods. Whatever inspired them didn’t concern him as long as this good fortune continued. With eight hundred men under his command and thirty seasoned warriors to train them—nothing seemed impossible. Aaron was confident he could fulfill Olaf’s demands now.
Weeks away from reaching his goal of two thousand fully trained soldiers to patrol the northlands, Aaron made an important decision. He knew there was only a brief period of time to take the trip he’d put off for years.
At the midday meal, Aaron approached Varinn. “I have private affairs to attend to. Given the current status of our recruits, I am satisfied I can leave you in charge while I’m gone.”
Varinn dropped his piece of half-eaten bread on his plate and eyed him critically. “Tis a strange thing to say without a greeting or providing further detail. You simply announce you’re leaving and I’m supposed to accept it? Curse that Odin-loving bastard for riding with us. Ever since we met Erik the Bald, you haven’t been the same.”
“The man has nothing to do with it.”
Varinn dismissed his lie with a flick of his hand. “Do not withhold the truth from me.”
Aaron ignored his challenge. “I leave after the meal.”
“Take an escort.”
“No.”
“You aren’t thinking clearly.”
He appreciated his friend’s concern. “You cannot convince me otherwise. If I’m needed, send word to the Trondelag.” The conversation ended there.
Varinn had spoken correctly. Erik’s words pushed Aaron over the edge. And he wouldn’t be able to function properly unless he faced his past. Nothing short of an edict from Olaf could persuade him to stay. His trustworthy captains didn’t need him. He planned to ride to Alesund and pay passage on a ship bound for the Trondelag. In four short days, he’d be reunited with his cousin.
Known for his explosive temper, Tyr wouldn’t appreciate an unannounced visit from a banished kinsman. Through his training as a Berserker, Aaron had learned the value of patience and humility. He’d rely on these skills to guide him as he sought forgiveness from the one man he desperately wanted to make peace with. He prayed wholeheartedly that siring children had softened his cousin’s heart.
Kara plucked the last few petals from the wildflower in her hand. “He loves me . . .” The silly childhood game didn’t include he wants to bed me . . . Love or lust, she’d undeniably affected the brooding jarl. Possessing that kind of power over a man both thrilled and frightened her. Amelia had warned her about toying with a man’s heart. Especially a Highlander. Born in Scotland herself, the maid considered herself an expert on such matters. In Amelia’s good opinion, Scotsmen were superior to Norsemen and twice as virile. A Highlander would sooner kidnap a lass and claim
After Erik left camp, Aaron was forced to contend with the bitter memories the elder had resurrected. Aaron’s cousin, Jarl Tyr Sigurdsson, should have executed Aaron for his betrayal. Hatred, jealousy, and thinly-veiled lust for Tyr’s wife had fueled his rage against his cousin. He desired everything Tyr had. Adding insult to injury, Aaron had bedded his cousin’s former mistress without permission.
Aaron covered his face with both hands. Without the love and support of family, Aaron finally had to admit, he felt lost—unbearably lonely.
New recruits were showing up daily. Word spread quickly about the draft. Farmers and noblemen alike volunteered their sons and experienced warriors before Aaron visited their homes. Better to keep the king’s representative pacified before he knocked on your gate. Perhaps they feared what he’d discover if he visited their steadings—hidden assets—secret altars dedicated to the old gods. Whatever inspired them didn’t concern him as long as this good fortune continued. With eight hundred men under his command and thirty seasoned warriors to train them—nothing seemed impossible. Aaron was confident he could fulfill Olaf’s demands now.
Weeks away from reaching his goal of two thousand fully trained soldiers to patrol the northlands, Aaron made an important decision. He knew there was only a brief period of time to take the trip he’d put off for years.
At the midday meal, Aaron approached Varinn. “I have private affairs to attend to. Given the current status of our recruits, I am satisfied I can leave you in charge while I’m gone.”
Varinn dropped his piece of half-eaten bread on his plate and eyed him critically. “Tis a strange thing to say without a greeting or providing further detail. You simply announce you’re leaving and I’m supposed to accept it? Curse that Odin-loving bastard for riding with us. Ever since we met Erik the Bald, you haven’t been the same.”
“The man has nothing to do with it.”
Varinn dismissed his lie with a flick of his hand. “Do not withhold the truth from me.”
Aaron ignored his challenge. “I leave after the meal.”
“Take an escort.”
“No.”
“You aren’t thinking clearly.”
He appreciated his friend’s concern. “You cannot convince me otherwise. If I’m needed, send word to the Trondelag.” The conversation ended there.
Varinn had spoken correctly. Erik’s words pushed Aaron over the edge. And he wouldn’t be able to function properly unless he faced his past. Nothing short of an edict from Olaf could persuade him to stay. His trustworthy captains didn’t need him. He planned to ride to Alesund and pay passage on a ship bound for the Trondelag. In four short days, he’d be reunited with his cousin.
Known for his explosive temper, Tyr wouldn’t appreciate an unannounced visit from a banished kinsman. Through his training as a Berserker, Aaron had learned the value of patience and humility. He’d rely on these skills to guide him as he sought forgiveness from the one man he desperately wanted to make peace with. He prayed wholeheartedly that siring children had softened his cousin’s heart.
Kara plucked the last few petals from the wildflower in her hand. “He loves me . . .” The silly childhood game didn’t include he wants to bed me . . . Love or lust, she’d undeniably affected the brooding jarl. Possessing that kind of power over a man both thrilled and frightened her. Amelia had warned her about toying with a man’s heart. Especially a Highlander. Born in Scotland herself, the maid considered herself an expert on such matters. In Amelia’s good opinion, Scotsmen were superior to Norsemen and twice as virile. A Highlander would sooner kidnap a lass and claim
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